


Entanglement

by 3littleowls



Series: The Empty Flat Series [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Divorce, Drug Use, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, M/M, Marriage, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock's Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3littleowls/pseuds/3littleowls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy being married to Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entanglement

**Author's Note:**

> This is set almost a year after Part 2, Revival. You may want to read the whole Empty Flat Series first.

“Are you expecting someone, dear?” Mary asks John as their doorbell sounds.

“Nope, not at this time of night.” He gets up from in front of the telly to open the door.

He finds Sherlock on his doorstep, sopping wet from the driving rain.

“Get in here, you're soaked!”

“Excellent analysis. Spot on,” Sherlock grumbles, water dripping on the floor of the foyer. He sets down a small bag with a thump and peels off his overcoat.

“What’s going on?” Mary asks, “Some poor sod get murdered?”

“It was a close thing, but no. I was hoping you would let me stay over tonight. Perhaps a couple of nights.” Sherlock hangs up his scarf and starts to pick at the laces on his shoes.

John and Mary gawp at him.

“You and Darin had an argument?” Mary puts together.

“Darin picked a fight with me and suggested I should take a walk in the lovely weather,” Sherlock replies blandly. “If this is inconvenient I can try to find a room.”

“Of course not,” Mary reassures. “You can kip upstairs. John can you put the kettle on while I’ll get some linens out?”

John waits for Mary to leave the room before asking, “So what did you do?”

Sherlock frowns. “Me? Why do you assume it was me? Darin is not thinking clearly at the moment. He will settle down and come to reason.”

“Oh sure,” John says putting water in the kettle and flicking it on. “He’s the type of bloke to pitch a wobbly at random. Out with it.”

Sherlock waves his hands in the air. “I was working on that embezzlement case I texted you about earlier. It had to be the records clerk, so I invited him over on the pretense that I needed to interview him to implicate the barrister. Apparently he was a bit quicker than the normal idiot and knew I suspected him. He pulled a gun, I disarmed him and called Lestrade. Solved.”

John quirks his head. “He pulled a gun on you in your flat?”

Sherlock scowls. “Well, on Darin, but otherwise yes.”

John lifts his eyebrows. “I think I’m getting the picture.”

“Obviously he was reacting to the stress. He’s not experienced in combat situations. Once he has calmed down and thinks it through, it will all be fine. He’s a proper genius when emotions are not clouding his head.”

John plops a teabag in a mug. “What did he say, exactly?”

Sherlock huffs. “Oh the usual bother about consideration and such. Some crockery was unnecessarily shattered. He then thought it would be a good idea I leave and not talk to him until he deemed it appropriate.”

“Wow.” Darin is not a hothead. It is hard for him to imagine the man being in a serious fit of temper. 

“Indeed! Obviously I was in control the entire time and I solved the case. In six hours no less! He didn’t even notice that. He hardly has a scratch. Ridiculous.”

“Hardly has a scratch?” John pours hot water into Sherlock’s cup.

“He took a bit of a right hook before the suspect drew his weapon. Nothing really.” Sherlock waves it away with a flutter of his hands.

“Mary,” John calls up the stairs, “get out a few extra towels. I think Sherlock may be with us a few days.”

Sherlock huffs and wipes his dripping hair out of his face.

####

 

Three days later, Mary walks into the pub and embraces Darin fondly.

“Oh your poor face!”

“Ta. The students are entranced with the black eye. They won’t shut up about it.” 

“I always thought you were entrancing anyway,” she smiles, ordering a round before Darin gets to it. “How are you holding up?”

“You’re the one with my arsehole husband in your house, I should be asking you.” He is trying for casual, but isn’t very convincing. He downs half his pint in one go.

“Sherlock’s been on best behavior,” she assures him. “He can stay as long as you two need to sort this out. It’s fine, love.”

“I’m sorry you two are in the middle of all this,” Darin says sincerely.

“We’re not picking sides. John promises to text when Sherlock has what he needs out of Baker Street for a few more days away.”

Darin nods. John had called him that morning to make the arrangements. Mary puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you think you’ll want to talk to him soon?”

“I don’t know. Talking to him is like a brick wall sometimes. In his head it’s perfectly reasonable to invite criminals into our home so they can assault his spouse. I don’t know how to make him understand and sometimes I’m not sure he’s capable. He did warn me, to be fair. Empathy is not really his area.”

Darin finishes his beer and orders another round.

“Sometimes with Sherlock we have to give him a little bit of leeway with the details. Even if he doesn’t understand exactly why, I’m sure he won’t do it again. He’s a smart cookie.”

Darin laughs bitterly. “Oh it’s not just this time. This is the icing on the cake. Did you know last month we had the drugs squad come to Baker Street?”

Mary blinks in shock, “He’s not...”

Darin shakes his head “No. He cheesed off someone at Scotland Yard again. Apparently tearing my house upside down to retaliate with a fake drugs bust is normal fair play. What if word got out at work that cops are digging around my home for drugs, Mary? I run a chem lab.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good.”

“No. He doesn’t realize we are a unit and the stupid shit he does affects my life too. What am I supposed to do?” He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“If you had married anyone else, I’d say couples therapy would be in order.”

“Sherlock would rip a therapist to shreds just for the entertainment value.” Darin quickly finishes his second beer and waves for a third.

“You can talk to someone, you know.”

“Oh right. I can imagine the advice they’d give me about the nightmare I married.”

Mary winces and they drink in silence for a few minutes. Darin’s phone buzzes.

“John says they are clear of Baker Street. I really shouldn’t stay here much longer. At the pace I’m drinking I’ll be falling down.”

Mary hugs him again. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure you will work things out. Maybe before your first anniversary.”

Darin looks tired and sad. “I hope so. I just need some space right now.”

To Mary’s ears, he sounds very unconvinced.

####

“I can’t believe this farce has gone on for five days!” Sherlock exclaims as John snatches the mobile out of his hands.

“He said he’d call you when he was ready. Leave him be, Sherlock.”

Sherlock glowers at John and stomps up the stairs.

####

Darin feels a hard lump in his belly as he types:

_Dog park at 5:00?_  


####

Sherlock walks up next Darin near the fence to the dog run.

“Thank you for taking Gladstone out,” Sherlock says.

“Of course.”

They stand in uncomfortable silence for several moments.

“Look,” Darin starts. “During the last few days I’ve been turning things over. I’m honestly not sure what to do. I’m hoping maybe you might have an idea.”

“I was rather thinking we could forget the whole thing,” Sherlock replies. He has his impassive mask locked on, the barrier he keeps up for most of the world.

“I try to tell you things you do that make me angry, and you don’t seem to understand or even try to.”

“I didn’t try to shoot you.”

“You just brought a madman into the house.”

“Yes I did. I thought you understood the Work came first. Why is it an issue now?”

“I have come to terms that you put yourself and John at risk. I understand the time commitment. I don’t get why you don’t seem bothered that a man had a gun pointed at my chest!”

“Why would I be upset? He was arrested and you are fine. It’s over.”

“Why would you be upset? Really?” Darin raises his voice. “Does it bother you at all that I kicked you out for a week? Do you even care? Feel anything at all?”

“This line of questioning is unfair. You know this isn’t my strong suit, Darin.”

“I also thought that when we got married, you understood we were connecting our lives together. That we needed to respect and consider the other person’s needs as well as our own.”

Sherlock doesn’t reply.

“Great,” Darin sighs. “I’m tired. I’m going home.”

“If you tell me what you want me to do, I will try,” Sherlock concedes quietly.

“You don’t even really understand the problem,” he says sadly, “I need a few more days to turn this over.”

“All right. Good evening.” Sherlock strides off without a backward glance.

####

“Didn’t go well I take it?” John asks Mary.

“I don’t think so. Darin won’t pick up his phone. Sherlock came back and locked himself upstairs and has been playing sad music all evening.”

“This isn’t good.”

####

__

_Hey, I’m sorry to bug you._

_**No problem Mary, what’s up?** _

_Is Sherlock back at home?_

_**No. Why?** _

_He left sometime last night and we haven’t seen him and he won’t reply to texts. John was wondering._

_**We’re still not really talking. Should I be worried?** _

_John says not yet. I’ll tell you when he shows up._  
  
####

“Are you kidding me?” John exclaims.

John snaps on the lights to the lab adjacent to Bart’s morgue. Sherlock is sitting on the floor, squinting into the sudden brightness.

“Oh, Hi.” Sherlock murmurs.

“You’re high aren’t you? Jesus Sherlock. What is it this time?” John kneels down to check his heart rate.

“Morphine. Don’t fuss. Fine.”

“Bloody buggering fuck. I can’t believe you. I really can’t.”

“Bad day. Hard things to do. Just have to forget for a little while. Just this once.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard that line before from every addict ever. Let’s get you back to my place. We’ll talk in the morning while I beat your arse.”

“Don’t tell Darin,” Sherlock pleads.

“We’ll see.”

####

Darin pulls himself up the stairs from the basement lab, exhausted. He woke up, force fed himself at the insistence of Mrs Hudson. He then sequestered himself down there all day and most of the evening. He almost made himself forget that today was his wedding anniversary.

He slumps across the sofa. His wedding day had been wonderful. Sherlock had shaken Savile Row until he had obtained the perfect charcoal suit and a shirt that was woven in a gray-green cloth to match his eyes. Actually registering the document had really been a formality. John had to elbow Sherlock once when he huffed at the Register, “Can we just put our names down now and get on with it before we’re old?” Perhaps he should have been put out, but Darin had to keep himself from giggling.

Later in the taxi on the way to Angelo’s, Sherlock had taken his hand and looked at the new band he had placed there minutes before. He had leaned in and whispered so quietly it was just a breath, “I do love you”. It was the very first time he had explicitly said those words. It all became very real to Darin at that moment, that this wasn’t some administrative process they had to endure. He felt pure, perfect joy and his true marriage ceremony had occurred in the back of a taxi.

At the restaurant they had eaten an abundant meal and drank to countless toasts in their honor. Angelo and Mrs Hudson took turns crying. Greg Lestrade got Darin completely plastered drinking shots. Sherlock alternated playing jigs on his violin and dancing with Mary and Molly. He thinks John’s sister even danced with Mycroft at one point, but things got a bit fuzzy after that. He had woken up in bed in the morning with his new husband, and they had stayed there for the rest of the day.

A tear slides down the side of his face. He misses him so much that it aches to his core.

Darin realizes that while he was woolgathering, someone started playing violin out in the street. It was a cruel bit of luck. He was home alone in a quiet house on his anniversary and his violinist was gone. Of course that’s when a street busker would turn up on Baker Street playing something lovely and heart-wrenchingly sad.

Wait.

Darin jumps up and flicks the drapes aside. His heart beats hard in his chest as he gazes down on a familiar figure in a long black coat.

####

Sherlock is lost a while, swaying to the music. The night is cool and the fog surrounds him in a cocoon. He feels he is in his own little private pocket of London. He wanders the halls of his Mind Palace and opens all the doors with Darin’s name on them. He lets the music tell what he has stored there. Things he now realizes probably never were his right to try to keep.

Eventually the spell is broken and Sherlock drops his bow. Darin is standing about five feet away from him, listening. His eyes are wide and glistening.

“That was beautiful.”

Sherlock bends to put his Stradivarius in its case. “I didn’t want you to think I had forgotten what today was. Is.”

Darin closes the distance between them and touches Sherlock’s arm gently. “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” Sherlock warns, softly.

Darin drops his hand. Sherlock can’t quite look him in the eye, fighting for neutrality.

“Happy anniversary Sherlock,” Darin says, sadly.

Sherlock reaches into his coat. “Just one more thing.” He pulls out a plain manila envelope and hands it to Darin. His hand shakes and he damns himself for it.

“What is this?” Darin asks, taking it.

“Open it later. I should go.” Sherlock picks up the violin case and turns to fade into the fog. “Happy anniversary.”

####

Back inside, Darin twists the string to open the envelope. He slides the papers out curiously. He can’t guess what it could be. Sheet music to the piece Sherlock had been playing?

He looks at the first page of what appears to be a legal form. It’s titled, “Divorce/Dissolution Separation petition”. He blinks at it numbly and shuffles through the papers. It’s all filled out for him as the Petitioner. Under “Facts for ending civil partnership” a box has been checked for “The Respondent has behaved in such a way that the Petitioner cannot reasonably be expected to live with the Respondent” and Mental cruelty has been entered with supporting details. On the very last page, there is a financial statement to grant him full ownership to 221 Baker Street. 

All he has to do is sign it and take to to the court.

His knees give way and he hits the floor, hard.

####  
 __  
What did you give me?

_Sherlock, I need to talk to you._

_Please, pick up._

_Did you turn off your mobile?_

_Please._

_I have to see you._

_Don’t do this to me.  
_

####

Darin starts into wakefulness with a gasp, startled by a stress dream. His heart hammers in his chest.

“Shh. It’s okay.” Sherlock is sitting on the edge of the mattress, still wrapped in his Belstaff. He gently rubs Darin’s arm.

Darin scans the room. He’s fully dressed and he must have collapsed in exhaustion. His mobile is on the bed with the hateful pile of papers.

“Sherlock?”

“Your texts. You said you wanted to see me. Maybe I shouldn’t have come?” he asks, hoarsely.

Darin whimpers and sits up, wrapping his arms around him crushingly tight. “Why?”

“It’s the only thing I could think of to do. I’m broken, Darin. I can’t be who you want me to be. Who you deserve.”

“I never wanted that.”

Sherlock tucks Darin in under his chin and holds him. “I don’t know how to fix this,” Sherlock admits.

“Me either, but we never will if we give up now. I missed you. So much.”

They hold each other in silence for a time.

“I am sorry I caused you pain, if it helps,” Sherlock whispers into his hair.

“It does. Do you see why I got angry in the first place?”

Sherlock considers lying for a brief second, but replies honestly. “Not really. I hear what you say. I’m not happy you are upset. It just doesn’t seem very logical to me.”

“Feelings aren’t very logical. Sometimes it’s best just to say you're sorry.”

Sherlock thinks on this for a while. “If I would have just said I was sorry, would this whole thing have blown over?”

Darin chuckles. “I don’t know about that. It would have been a whole lot better than calling me a hysterical idiot.”

Sherlock rocks him a bit, pressing kisses into his hair.

“I can’t believe you were going to give me Baker Street,” Darin murmurs.

“It seemed to be the right thing to do. Besides, I don’t think I’d want to be here without you.”

“Sentiment?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Darin entwines his hand with his. “Hmmm, Sherlock, where’s your ring?”

“I didn’t think I’d be wearing it anymore. It’s in my violin case.”

Darin pulls away. “Go get your ring, you git. While you're at it, take those papers and put them in the fireplace. I never want to see them or anything like them, again.”

“Are you sure?” Sherlock asks, biting his lower lip.

“Yes, of course I’m sure. When you are done come back to bed. I’m exhausted and you look beat yourself. We’ll talk more later.”

Sherlock gathers the papers on the bed and takes them out if the room. Before committing them to the fire, he pulls his mobile out of his pocket and sends a quick text to John:

_I’m home. -SH_

####

Darin wakes, legs and arms tangled up with Sherlock’s. He’s already awake and watching him sleep.

“Morning.” Darin stretches in his arms. “I’m going to call the lab and tell them I won’t be in today.”

Sherlock nods in agreement and kisses him sweetly. “It occurs to me we’ve never had what people call ‘make up sex’.”

Darin smiles. “Smashing idea. Do you think...well. You might let me make you come this time?”

Sherlock thinks about it. Darin doesn’t ask him for this. It just happens on occasion. Or is something Sherlock sometimes will ask for. It’s always left up to him to decide if he feels relaxed enough to give himself up to it.

“I’m not sure,” he replies honestly.

“I...just want to see you. The way you look after.”

Sherlock understands what he’s asking for. Darin wants to see him open, vulnerable and completely unguarded. Over the last few days he has kept any feelings he has tamped down to get by. He took morphine to dull with what he couldn’t cope with. “It may take awhile.”

“No pressure, but taking a while is a better reason to take a day off,” he says and reaches for his mobile.

####

Sherlock sits at the kitchen table, nibbling on a wedge of apple and a slice of toast. Both are dripping with honey. Between bites he is writing in a familiar little Moleskine notebook. He bought it just before Darin moved in and Sherlock has used it since to carefully detail all the Rules of the house on which they had agreed. Darin thinks it’s unnecessary, but it seems to help Sherlock process things.

“Rule Number 26: Interviewing clients in the house is acceptable. Suspected and known dangerous elements are to be interviewed in a neutral location,” Sherlock reads to him.

Darin nods over his tea.

“Rule Number 27: If one of us is angry, the other will not argue about it. Time will be given for a cool off while the other considers the reasons for the upset.”

“Here, I have another one.” Darin takes the book and pen, which is sticky. It’s Sherlock’s first batch of honey from the rooftop apiary and he is ridiculously pleased with himself over the success of his hives. Darin and John quietly hope Sherlock will gain a pound or two from the vast amount he uses on toast, in his tea and in the mead fermenting in the cupboards.

He hands the book back over to Sherlock, who reads out loud, “Rule Number 28: No one will be asked to leave Baker Street, cooldown walks excluded.” Sherlock quirks a grin. “I like this one.”

“I shouldn’t have told you to go. I’m sorry for that. We should have stayed together and hashed this out,” Darin confesses.

“Good. John’s sheets are horrible.”

Darin laughs.

“This is hard,” Sherlock says seriously.

“Yeah, it is. Worth it though.”

“I’ll make you upset again,” Sherlock warns.

“I know. We have the Rules. We’ll work on it together,” Darin assures him. He reaches over and gives him a kiss. “You are sticky all over!” He laughs.

“All over?” Sherlock rumbles suggestively.

“That’s it. Break time has ended. Bedroom.”

Sherlock hums contentedly and grabs the jar of honey.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Gowerstreet again for beta.
> 
> I think I have a John/Sherlock-centric casefic in this AU brewing. Let me know if you want me to write it.


End file.
